


Faint Recognition

by imkerfuffled



Series: 25 Days of Ficlet Prompts [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, set mainly during their fight on the helicarrier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3367274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imkerfuffled/pseuds/imkerfuffled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha promised him years ago that if worse came to worst she would make a different call, just like he did for her, and with Loki's attack that promise is put to the test</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faint Recognition

“If you ever have to take me out—” Clint began. 

“If I ever have to take you out, I’ll make a different call.” 

“Tasha…” 

“No.” she insisted, “You let me live when you had every reason to shoot me. I’ll make a different call.” 

Clint stared at her over the bottle in his hand, a haunted look in his eyes. “But if you have to—” 

“Different call.” 

… 

_I will make a different call._

When she made that promise so many years ago, she never imagined a situation like this. 

_I have to make a different call._

She never imagined this _creature,_ with all the skills and cunning of Clint Barton and all the fanaticism of Loki wrapped into one. 

That _creature_ was exactly why she had to be the first one to find him. Because if she—she who could think up any possible sequence of events, but none for which she would not forgive Clint—she who did not think up the events that led to this, and could never forgive this Loki-creature—if she could not spare his life, who could? 

They fought in tandem, like one of their sparring matches: each blow anticipated and blocked with grace. Fighting always felt like dancing to Natasha, and never more so than with Clint. But this was not a normal fight. She couldn’t afford to pull any punches. 

Anyone else would have killed him. Anyone else wouldn’t have hesitated. Even Coulson… 

_Is Coulson okay?_

Clint took immediate advantage of her distraction by pinning her in place with a knife at her throat, her heart racing. 

_I will make a different call._

But could she? Did the man she made that promise to even exist anymore, or was it all Loki now? She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to believe it. If Natasha herself had been redeemable all those years ago, surely Clint was too. 

She only needed a sign that he was still Clint, underneath all of Loki’s tampering. The faintest recognition in his eyes would be enough. 

It had to be. 

He grabbed a chunk of her hair and yanked her head back, and Natasha couldn’t hesitate any longer. 

There wasn’t going to be a sign. 

She forced her head down, disregarding the pain in her scalp, and clamped her teeth down on his forearm, waiting until he doubled over to flip herself around his arm and smack his head against the railing. 

_Do it. Do it now._

_But… I promised._

She stood there, paralyzed, conflicted, watching as Clint struggled to stand up. 

Compromised. Badly. 

_You’ll never get a better chance, Widow._

He raised his head. 

_Wait._

“Tasha?” 

Faint recognition. 

She punched him in the face.


End file.
